Field and Stream
by Shadsie
Summary: A tie-in to "Tales of the Way-Station." After Grima was slain in the darkest timeline of his fractured world, the human part of Sir Robin's soul had been given rest and redemption in the Smash World. However, he never knew what happened to the children he'd had with his beloved Panne. Master Hand gives him a chance to find out.


**Disclaimer:** Properties belong to Nintendo, Intelligent Systems, etc. No profit is sought and my work is too weird for any of you guys to want it, anyway.

 **Notes:** I just played through the "Future Past" maps until I got the golden ending. It was grueling and hard. Poor tactician Shadsie accidentally killed the alternate universe version of her son when he shot first and her AI was triggered. It was too late to go back. I originally had an idea about that angsty happening, but then I started thinking how she managed to save the female-Morgan and I started wondering what might be the aftermath of the golden ending would have been on one of my male-files: the one where female-Morgan happens to be a rare species. This is basically a fic-let crossover / side-story to my Super Smash Bros. fan fiction, **"Tales of the Way-Station,"** in which the male Robin succumbed to Grima, was slain, is looking for redemption and had married Panne to make bunny-children. With me, it's the weird ideas that get written. Spoilers for Fire Emblem: Awakening and for the "Future Past / Future of Despair" DLC. __

* * *

 **FIELD AND STREAM**

 **A Fire Emblem: Awakening and Super Smash Bros. Fan Fiction**

He _remembered_. He remembered much of life despite having forgotten most things from an entire timeline. Robin's sister from another world had similar issues with amnesia that he did – perhaps even more so, but it seemed that she had less pain to remember, and the man envied her that.

It was the important things that his mind accounted for. Love. Love in its many forms was a big thing. A man had found him by the wayside when he was powerless, clocked over the head by bandits that had outnumbered him and had taken all of his valuables, leaving him with naught but a crumbling tarnished bronze sword and low-level little thunder tome that they likely were too laden to carry. Perhaps merely being left for dead by ruffians was why he remembered a few impressions from his childhood, unlike the other Robin, who remembered nothing at all before that day in her parallel universe due to her condition being caused by a failed attempt at demonic possession.

The man who had helped him had shown him love – and not in the way that had been briefly rumored among their comrades, although Robin supposed they had been close enough for it to become that if they'd had the inclinations, but neither had the nature – at least in his universe. Robin's "impression" upon Chrom upon awakening to a hand held lift to him up became the thick loyalty of friends and brothers.

And then Robin had killed him.

Robin had found love in the way of romance and "the stirrings" in a fierce yet timid person who was the last of her kind. Lonely Panne – who'd joined Chrom's "Shepherds" to repay an ancient-bloodline debt, had warned up to him sooner than she had warmed up to the others in the group. He never knew why. Perhaps it was his calm manner of speech, or simply his habit of asking simple questions to try to get to know people so he could assess their strengths and weaknesses. Chrom had called him a "natural diplomat." The joke between him and Panne, of course, was that she had fallen in love with his bad cooking and he had fallen in love with the idea that someone besides himself had actually liked his awful meals.

They'd had two beautiful children together – both a mix of human and beast and a renewed hope to a dying race.

And then Robin remembered the taste of rabbit-blood upon a dragon's mismatched fangs.

His dear friends fell one by one, in pairs and in groups in his memories – and he could do nothing about it. The Beast had him. His body was not his own and in many ways, he'd lost his heart as well. He drifted in a void, feeling an absolute sense of the meaninglessness of everything for a long time. He did not know where he began and ended and where the dragon began and ended. A moment, a slip, a bit of unwariness on his part – or a settled darkness nesting inside his soul - had unleashed Grima upon the world.

He'd fought back occasionally, when he could. A voice or a scent or an indescribable spiritual weakness that he sensed in his infected form would bring him up. He knew he'd never be himself again, but as a human, he was a tactician – and so he always looked for cracks in the enemy's defenses. He tried to help anyone on the outside defeat their common foe. He did is very best to help his friends and their children to kill him. And, that they had, at some point, although he did not remember it. He was almost certain that he'd died on Lucina's sword – on the holy awakened Falchion wielded by the Lucina of one world or another. Perhaps another version of him had destroyed Grima – a better outcome in the long run according to his inter-dimensional sister. Somehow, his feeling always drifted back to his best friend's poor determined daughter.

The bedraggled remains of Robin's soul had been salvaged. Naga – or perhaps Tiki – as the case may be, remembered former friends and had their mercies. The man was astounded that there was anything left at all of him, but enough of "the human" was self-aware to be taken into the custody of a specialist in dealing with lost and confused souls, who resided between a multitude of universes. Master Hand, as this interesting deity was known, offered Robin a place of rest – and a place for fighting, but not fighting in terms of war and killing anymore, but a place to engage in sport with many worthy warriors. The Hand, of course, had his own motives - an enjoyment of watching combat among them, but, for his part, Robin felt at ease here.

He'd had to change his name slightly for the sake of clarity. He went by the nickname of "Rob," giving over "Robin" to the person who was "as he would be in another life, but born with different plumbing." He'd made many friends here, in the "Smash World." No group of people could replace the Shepherds, but it felt wonderful to be a human being again and to have human friends, animal friends and those in-between again.

And in the stage-fights, which were regulated and never fatal, he could beat the stuffing out of every one of them – well, if he'd kept on his toes with tactics that day and wasn't outsmarted by one of the other tactician-types here… or just pounded into the ground by Bowser. Worthy opponents – worthy friends. Rob sometimes saw the shadows of his former comrades in his new friends – "that one fights like Sully"… "Chrom's ancestor who is here fights like Chrom and like young Lucina when I knew her" … "that aura-detecting creature would find Kellam no matter how well he was misplaced..."

However, the ache in his heart remained. He was happy to hear from Lady Robin about how well she'd left her Shepherds. She'd given her life for them and had done her best to see them in as good condition as possible as her last thoughts had drifted out.

The former tactician and once-dragon-vessel longed to know just what had happened in his world, even in the aftermath of Grima's ravages.

A year to the day after he'd arrived in the Smash World; Master Hand called Rob into his general office.

"Yes, sir?" the young man asked, "You called me up for something special?"

"Indeed, I have something special to offer you, Sir Robin," the god-in-the-form-of-a-glove explained. "In my connections to all worlds, I have come into some information about the one that you left behind. "It seems that those that have survived, under The Twelve Heroes have worked very hard to create peace and prosperity. The world is far from perfect, but it is coming along, like flowers and vines that sprout among the ruins of a burned house. Lucina and her friends had help from an Outrealm closely connected to yours and the outcome of your universe was something other than sinking into an eternal night."

"Really?" Rob asked; his face and entire body perking up as if her were a puppy being offered a treat.

"I thought that on the anniversary of your freeing that you may want to see how your children are doing."

"My children? Morgan and Yarne? They are alive?"

"Indeed, they are. However, if you consent to being shown your former world, I must warn you that some of what you see will be painful. Many powers at work have chosen not to even try to restore the memories that you have lost as a way of protecting you…some of what you may experience if I send you to visit your world may bring some of them back."

"I wish to see my children, Master Hand. If they are alive, I want to see them again."

"As you wish. I believed that this would be no finer 'birthday gift' for you, for what passes as a 'birthday' in my domain. This visit will not last long – just enough to see them. You shall be in spirit-form, so you will not be able to interact with anyone. No one will see you, hear you, or in the case of your family and some of your friends, no one will catch your scent."

"That would be for the best."

"It may be jarring to be a part of the 'river's flow' again of pure spirit, seeing as you have grown accustomed to having a physical form here."

"It should not be too bad."

"As soon as you are ready, Mr. Robin, I shall transport you to a meeting among the New Shepherds."

"I am ready, Sir," Rob replied. The giant glove snapped his fingers and the former tactician found himself within the framework of a sunny day in a beautiful field covered in seed-grass and small white flowers. He felt like he was a part of that waving grass, itself, or, more accurately, the wind that waved it. Robin was dissipated into the sky and the air. He felt the sun as if on his skin, although he had no skin at the moment. He felt himself flowing, able to hear and understand everything from the soft chirps of crickets to rodents beneath the ground to the approaching footsteps and hoof beats of a military company.

"Focus, Robin," he told himself and he was instantly able to. What he saw before him were the impossibly beautiful rolling rises and dips of the area of Mount Prism. The approach was made up of the children of his friends – all teenagers and young adults. They were older than he had remembered them, even from those little windows of perception in which he'd been able to view the world from the eyes of Grima, let alone from when he'd remembered them as actual kids from his human-days. However, they were not much younger than he had been when he had taken up arms beside Chrom.

Rob would have smiled if he had a physical form at all at the various quirks he remembered in each of them, displayed in turn and through their little arguments. Brady was getting sentimental and sniffling. Laurent was trying to account for everything. Noire was apparently doing a good business aiding the people with charms with a "happiness curse" upon them. The roar of a certain wyvern alerted everyone to Gerome's decent into the field, although nobody recognized him at first, for he felt no need to wear a mask.

Lucina came to hold order, as radiant a child as Robin had remembered her. Cynthia and Severa served on her guard upon gleaming, newly-washed and groomed pegasi. Nah sighed. Kjelle talked of the toughness of the new recruits for the regular army she'd been training. Inigo seemed to be trying to bring some kind of order to it all or at least trying to get everyone to smile. Owain complained that the common people were picking up his speaking habits, robbing them of their uniqueness.

The Spirit of Robin leapt when he found Yarne. His son… his dear son was not only alive, but looking very well. He, however, was ducking and hiding behind his friends and behind stray bushes – not apparently out of cowardice for any form of enemy anymore, but because he'd gained unwanted fame. He complained to the others that the people of Ylisse had caught wind that he was the last of his kind and he'd gained a fanatical conservation society following his every move. They kept him from having fun, such as eating anything they deemed remotely unhealthy for his kind and keeping him from transforming into beast form so-as to prevent him from becoming a "target."

"Oh, my poor boy," Robin said. He thought, for a moment, he saw Yarne's ears twitch, as if he'd heard him. The young Taguel resumed speaking with his friends as though he'd dismissed whatever had felt strange to him as wind through the grasses.

To try to give misery company, Nah complained of her own brush with fame. She was also the last-of-a-kind, but she was worshipped and given offerings. She found it obnoxious, but Yarne thought that he might like to trade places with her.

Robin hoped that the people would let up on Yarne once he started a family. He knew from his own experience that a dose of human blood had not diluted the Taguel-traits in the case of Yarne and so it was likely that he could carry on the race.

Robin flowed along the river of spirit and the air around his son to whisper into one of his long ears. "Keep the future, my child," he said. "Enjoy this peace carry on. Don't ever think of yourself as a coward, son. You have faced more fears than most can imagine and are the bravest person I have ever known. I am proud of you. I am so proud of you."

"What? What was that?" Yarne suddenly said, jerking his head around. Everyone looked at him strangely.

"Just the wind, I guess!" he laughed.

Swiftly, the company's attention was drawn to a few stray Risen that had entered the area. They were weak, a few stragglers hanging on to what was left of the dark power soaked into the land – a pitiful joke at this point to these strong companions.

Robin was happy. His son was alright. Perhaps the boy was a little too famous for his tastes, but he was on his way to a good life.

"What of Morgan?" Robin asked Master Hand through the flow of field and stream. "Where is she? Is she alive? Is she well?"

"Of Morgan…" the voice of the hand slowly intoned. "Her situation is… much more difficult. I did warn you that you would uncover pain in this journey."

"Did she… perish?" Robin asked. "No… you told me that they were both alive. Is she hurt?"

He felt himself whisked upon the flow of the wind into a deep wood, crowded with twisted trees. He startled as he saw a large hare hop along in the waning afternoon light. No… it was a Taguel, a beast-form Taguel. The creature appeared wary as she nibbled at some weeds and sniffed at the dandelion-fluff that was wafting around in the air.

"Morgan?" Robin asked.

"Indeed," Master Hand answered.

"Why is she not with the others? Why is she alone? This feels very far away from Yarne."

"It is. Morgan has chosen not to live among humans anymore."

"Why ever not?" Robin demanded. "She was always the more human of my children. She took after me. She barely ever used her animal-form outside of playing with her brother. Yarne was always the more instinctual one. She seems… lonesome out here."

"She is very lonely," the Hand explained. "However, she does not feel safe or worthy to live among mankind. She made decisions that she will always regret. She cannot face her friends again. Furthermore, she is a divided soul that cannot be made whole at this point."

"What do you mean?" Robin asked, becoming angry. His daughter was suffering and there was nothing he could do about it. He could at least yell at gods that gave him unsatisfying answers.

"After Grima took over your body, Robin, Morgan was captured by the Grimleal. Grima used your form to manipulate her emotions and to convince her to serve him. She had wanted her father back so badly that she choked down the bitter bile of truth and made herself believe in many lies. In turn, because she was very skilled and he needed more than one commander for his followers, he divided her soul. He separated out her masculine qualities… creating twins from the one person through the darkest of black magic. Morgan was divided, as it were, into an animus and an anima."

"Damn Grima! He shattered my little girl's soul?!"

"The male-half was killed in battle by the Shepherds of the Outrealm. The female-half was reached by another version of you, who was able to exchange words with her. She fled the battlefield and has re-thought her actions ever since. She has decided to give up on her dream of being a tactician and to even give up upon being human. She has exiled herself to a mostly solitary life. She does have some communication with the animals in her wood, but she'll never have again what she once had, knowing what she has done."

"No…. no…" Robin pleaded. "Please… I… I have to speak with her."

"I have already told you that you cannot communicate with the living in your state."

"Please! I have to… I must help her in some way! Even if it's just a moment's comfort. Just give me this."

"I think…" the inter-dimensional deity hesitated, "I think there may be a form you can take here that would be permissible."

"Anything at all!"

Robin found his spirit swirling and gathering until he found himself rooted upon four long, sturdy legs with large paws at their ends. His head felt heavy and his ears felt long and somewhat uncomfortable. He was very warm and found himself panting in the summer air, thick with humidity in this forest setting. He hobbled about until he realized that he seemed to be a Taguel-take on one of the snowshoe hares he'd seen in Regna Ferox. Robin caught a look of himself in a pair of puddles among the mud. His fur was glistening white – as pearl-hued as his human scalp, but all over his body.

He stiffened, sat up on his haunches and clutched his forepaws close to his chest when he caught sight of Morgan. He twitched his nose. "Come here," he said gently. "I shall not harm you. I am family and I wish to speak with you for just a moment."

Morgan held back, scrutinizing the enormous white hare. He –and she was sure it was a male by the rumble in his voice – had an otherworldly quality to him. With his white fur, he looked like a ghost. She was unsure if this being was spirit or flesh, or spirit made flesh. There was something about him that was familiar. The gentle-silver nature of his white coat reminded her of someone she long missed. His voice created a deep stirring within her.

"My family is dead," the female-Taguel answered. "My mother was killed. My father lost both his body and his soul. I do not know the whereabouts of my brother, but he would want nothing to do with me if he knew the truth of my nature. Please, be you ghost or long-lost of my race, bother me no more!"

"I cannot do that, Luckyfoot," Robin said slowly, using a seldom-uttered nickname he had given Morgan when she was a child.

Morgan approached, hopping cautiously. Her nose twitched furiously. "You must be my imagination," she said. "You remind me of my father, but he was a human. He is also very dead. A dragon ate him and wore his skin. I foolishly served that dragon, mistaking it for him."

The Robin-rabbit cautiously hopped near to her, making no sudden moves and taking a submissive stance. "I am dead, that much is truth," he said. "I am here by a temporary grace among gods. I am told that the dragon, in the end, did not define me. Do not let him define you, either. It does not matter what happened in the past. You are here now, and still my brainy little girl."

"Father?"

"Morgan."

"Father!"

Morgan nuzzled into her father's Taguel-neck and shoulder. She did not change out of beast-form. He remained as a giant rabbit and nuzzled her back – an embrace among animals among the brambles.

"Why are you a Taguel, Father? I do not remember you as this. Did you keep a secret from Mother?"

"No," Robin answered. "This is merely a form given to me that is the most comfortable for the both of us right now. I belong to another world entirely for the time being and there, I am human. I got my old form back, although I am sure I do not deserve it."

Morgan merely nuzzled and did the Taguel-equivalent of sobbing. She shook as she and her father shared the warmth of their fur. "I am at peace now."

"I cannot live as a human anymore!" Morgan wailed. "Not after what I've done!"

"Do you wish to live as a human, my child?" Robin asked.

"I… I do not know," Morgan said. "I think… I think I would, eventually… but, Father… I commanded armies of Risen! I sent them to kill and eat!"

"You made a mistake; that is all. It was all my fault. I should have fought harder from within when Grima was feeding you lies and using my image to manipulate your heart. He used your love and desperation against you."

"Some tactician I am."

"Some weaknesses are too cruel to even fathom. You can, perhaps, go in among the outlying towns, keeping your hood up to slowly adjust to a human life," Robin suggested. "From what I have managed to overhear, none among the Shepherds is aware of what happened to you at all. You vanished. I am sure I heard Yarne presume you dead. They would welcome you back with open arms and hearts."

"The truth would have to come out, Father. I wouldn't bear to keep it from them. I have no illusions that they would forgive me of such great crimes as I have committed."

"Being brainwashed is hardly a crime, daughter."

"It feels like it."

"I know."

Morgan playfully nibbled at one of her father's long whiskers. "I am just glad to know that you are at some peace."

"I must go now. I can feel myself fading from this realm," Robin said. "I'll love you, even from across worlds and planes forever, whatever you decide to be in the end."

Morgan watched her father walk into a sunbeam and disappear from her life. She held her paws to her chest wondering if she'd just dreamed it all. She decided later that what she had seen was perfectly real.

When Robin returned to the Smash World and the mansion he and his new comrades resided in, in full human form, he cancelled all scheduled fights in which he was to appear, locked himself in his chambers and wept for two whole days. His tears were for both joy and sorrow. 

* * *

**End.**

 **Shadsie**

Note: Anyone leaving comments/reviews upon ANY of my stories, please be sure that you actually have something to say about the story, itself. The comment/review sections of my fan fictions are not Nintendo fan message boards for discussion and complaint about things the company does or about the handling or existence of certain characters, nor is it an appropriate sounding board for your fan-theories unless they connected to something of mine in the fic. I ran into this with my last short on Archive of Our Own and, frankly, guys, the off-topic trailing and especially starting to turn my fic-review section into a flamewar really pissed me off. Do that too much to me and I might decide that I really AM too old for this hobby and pack it up.


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